


Untitled

by jehanna



Category: Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-07 13:16:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19210201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jehanna/pseuds/jehanna
Summary: Single word prompts from twitter.





	1. Basorexia

**Basorexia - An overwhelming desire to kiss.**

Smiles became a commodity in times of strife, to be bought through acts or found through luck. Luck tended to be on Joshua’s side, he was good that way. The one thing he’d always been able to do was make people laugh. He was the joker of the deck, it was just the role he always fell into.

Some prices couldn’t be haggled, he could try but there was only so much sleight of hand and a charming face could do.

Some people gave out smiles like breaths, at every moment and every occasion, unwavering and unfaltering in their giving and giving and never receiving.

And he hadn’t seen Artur smile in a long time. Not the kind from his polite nature, the ones he gifted to those in pain to ease their troubles, to make them believe they had reason to smile too.

Genuine, unadulterated and he was surprised to see Artur was rarely ever that. Not the malicious kind, nor dishonest kind, the kind that got trained out of a person, the kind that must have been taken from him. Joshua wished he could ask why and how, and how to return it.

And still he smiled for others, because he saw reason to smile and Joshua didn’t realize he could love such a thing.

It was a late, stiff and muggy night in their shared tent, where they both lie awake. Joshua because he didn’t feel like dealing with the images that await him in his dreams, Artur because the man never could sleep. But they could come close. Artur didn’t talk much at all, at least not about himself and it had taken months for Joshua to truly _know_ him, and he wishes he could find and beat whoever taught Artur he wasn’t worth talking about.

So they talk, to ease their minds and exhaust their bodies. And Joshua doesn’t remember what he said, he overthought around Artur and yet didn’t think at all, he didn’t practice half the words that came from his mouth.

Artur’s laugh is a gentle and cleansing sound, like that of a dinner bell, and so quiet but so loud in his ears and Joshua is stopped in his tracks. His eyes crinkle and his dimples show and it’s not hidden in the least.

Joshua has wanted to kiss and has kissed many people in his life, but never had longing ever hit him like a stampede, roused something so deep in himself he didn’t know it was there and almost bring him to tears. He has kissed so many times in his life, yet never has he wanted so badly,

And never has it ever been more unobtainable.


	2. Ayurnamat

**Ayurnamat - The philosophy that there is no point in worrying about events that cannot be changed.**

People who made deals with denial were the most foolish they came, as far as Knoll was concerned. Fate wasn’t something to bend and mold, that much their studies had shown them.

Lyon believed he was wrong, and for his sake Knoll followed along, even if deep in his heart he knew not a thing could be done. Grado would tear itself apart and they would watch.

If he had his way, he would take Lyon far and run, the people of this country be damned. He’d mourn but that was to pretend anyone else was as important as Lyon, to imply he’d risk even a little for another if it risked Lyon.

And then Vigarde grew cold in his hand, his other warm in Lyon’s own, moist with his tears. Denial was for fools, but Knoll followed where Lyon lead, and he shouldn’t of let him believe that damned stone would help a thing.

But Knoll worried, he worried and worried and worried and every moment was concern for Lyon’s safety. Lyon had other priorities, he always did.

Denial was for fools, and there was no point in worrying about that which cannot be changed.

And yet, Knoll had found himself staying by not-Lyon’s side, something he would never dream of doing before but that husk was so convincing, and he believed that the Lyon in front of him could be changed.

Even as he lay on the prison floor, starved and deprived, begging for merciful death, he refuses to believe that was really Lyon, denies that Lyon would ever hurt a fly.

Knoll was the biggest fool of them all.

 


	3. Brontide

**Brontide - The low rumbling of distant thunder.**

The sea of gray, clouds swirling and losing form and taking form, the way the very earth seemed to shake would of fazed Saleh, had monsoon season been close. He’d weathered every single one since his birth.

Monsoon season had passed, and the stars never lied.

The sudden wave of unease, of lethargy and uncertainty that swept over the village, over grandmother was unmistakable. This was like nothing felt before, something not physical but metaphysical, something that shakes you to the core and couldn’t be seen but felt. Nowhere but everywhere and you just  _ know _ .

The energy is so putrid he leaves the elder to rest, but the divine only tell so much, when you can’t meet them yourselves. Seeking council with someone other than his thoughts and charts, his hand is a gentle knock on the door of the room Myrrh slept in when she visited.

The door moves with his fist, peeks open from the force of the knock, before fully opening to his hand.

When light floods the room and her bed is empty, Saleh could’ve mistaken the thunder for his own frightened heartbeat.

 


	4. Duende

**Duende - Unusual power to attract or charm.**

Marisa’s father taught her many things, the only things he gave her, but the only things she needed.

Jehanna was a constant state of survival, the diamond in the rough was that you survived the rough and became the diamond. She could quiet her breath, she could play dead. She didn’t move in her sleep and she knew where to attack first. She could fight clean, she could fight dirty. She could ration food and water as easily as the wild camels.

There was no place for luxuries in Jehanna, and yet they strove for these unattainable standards. Merchants bearing silk shawls and rare jewels, fancy liquors and wines, exotic fruits and fine woods. Anything to rebel against the barren land around them, anything to rebel against the reputation they’re given.

Marisa never understood it, but watching Tethys, she came close.

She knew her past, could think that’s why the woman draped herself in those rich fabrics, in faux gold and glittered like the sands themselves.

Marisa has always been averse to luxury, but never to Tethys, couldn’t help the lure she radiated. Not because of riches or regality, but because she had never seen it before, someone in the same standing as her dressed so. Tethys wasn’t rich, but she would have you fooled.

Marisa would dress up, sometimes. She didn’t feel particularly either way about it, only that she loathed the impracticality it would lend in battle. She would wear Tethys’ clothes and let the woman play with her hair, feel her groomed nails against her scalp as she braided and pinned. Sometimes, she would even do her makeup.

The woman in the mirror never looked like Marisa. But it was an interesting dip into what could have been, if father had married a rich woman, if she’d been adopted when he died.

She thinks back to what Tethys said, about being reborn, about **wanting** to be reborn.

Did Tethys want to be reborn rich?

...Would she want Marisa if she was? Or would she want the woman in the mirror?

Tethys carefully undoes her hair, wipes her face clean with this gentle smile and a kiss to her lips as she’s done up in her usual half-pony.

Maybe not.


	5. Baisemain

**Baisemain - A kiss on the hand.**

No matter how attentively she’d watch, she could never catch how Joshua pulled the things he did. He would pull a coin out of thin air, flutter it seamlessly between his fingers, spin it on his nail.

“Do those impress many girls back home?”

“In a land of pickpockets? No way.” He chuckles, pulls a coin from her ear like he hadn’t five times before. His hand almost runs along her cheekbone as he pulls away. “And it’s not like that.”

Natasha busies herself with her work, the pestle straining her wrist with it. He watches her, bored, only faintly amused by her preparing. He’s taken to lying about the medical tent as of late, not that she minded the company. She’s been making medical pastes and oils since her childhood, distractions didn’t faze her.

“Doesn’t that get tiring?”

“Not really.”

“Watch this.”

With a sigh, she turns slightly, to see him sat up and coin in hand. Not this again.

Natasha grips his wrist, feels him jump a bit under the touch. His skin is warm against the gentle touch of her lips, she hears the coin drop and roll across the ground. When she pulls back, he looks shocked. She smirks.

“There are much better for uses for these hands than coin tricks.”

His response is slow, voice dry. “...Like what?”

“Like taking over my shift,” the mortar is passed into his arms with a wry grin, the pestle and oil solution following suit. “Since you’re feeling so kind. And on second thought, I think I am tired.”

Dusting off her robes, Natasha flees the tent, leaving him stuttering behind her, smiling all the while.

She could be coy if she wanted, too.

**Author's Note:**

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